


like midnight

by Medie



Category: Indiana Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been here before, guests at a victory party that's more a funeral in disguise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Post _The Crystal Skull_. Thanks to [](http://groovekittie.livejournal.com/profile)[**groovekittie**](http://groovekittie.livejournal.com/) for the beta. Title comes from It Was Not Death by Emily Dickinson. Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/halfamoon/profile)[**halfamoon**](http://community.livejournal.com/halfamoon/)

What's left of the tribesmen find them just after dusk. Marion's too tired to be scared when they surround them, melting out of the shadows like ghosts. Beside her, Mutt starts to jump up, already fumbling for his gun. She lays a hand on his arm and pulls him back down. "Don't."

There's no hostility in their eyes, just a weary respect. She knows the look well. One nods and she returns it, knowing behind her Indy is doing the same. They've been here before, guests at a victory party that's more a funeral in disguise.

"_Mom_," hisses Mutt, tense beneath her hand. "Are you crazy?"

"Don't talk to your mother like that," warns Indy at the same moment Marian says, "Leave them be, sweetheart. They're not here to fight. They saw what happened back there." When they destroyed these people's sole reason for existing. Maybe. She's not so sure about that, the only thing that's obvious is how little they really know. She's not sure about anything that isn't Mutt, Ox, or Indy. Maybe not even Indy. Mostly, she's sure they're in over their head. Aliens are a whole new level of bizarre (she'll blame Indy for it later) that she's not ready to try handling yet.

She is willing to take a guess here that the ignorant savages aren't the ones holding the spears.

Relaxing her grip, she keeps a wary eye on him as the tribesmen settle around the fire, aware of Indy coming closer. When she looks up at him, he gestures to the empty space at her side and waits for approval before sitting down. "They just want to share the fire, kid," he says, handing one his canteen. "After the mess we caused, it's the least we can do."

Mutt doesn't look convinced, but he says nothing.

Marion's answer is a shake of her head. Indy's breath brushes her ear, making her shiver, as he says, "Gets that from me." There's an awkward pride in his voice and she can hear the struggle underpinning his words. He has no idea what to do next, his own relationship with his father no kind of example, and she swallows against the flush of guilt. She won't – can't – regret her decisions back then. Not on the strength of a 'what might have been'. She did what Mutt needed. If it had just been her, maybe, but no. It wasn't just her and, if she's honest (and at this point, why not?) she can honestly say she wouldn't trade a moment of her time with Colin.

She looks at Indy. So much time lost. They can make up, but Mutt – "Funny," she says, pushing a smile. "I thought he got it from me."

Indy scrunches his face. "Well, he certainly got his fair shar―yeowch!" He mock-scowls at her, rubbing the spot where she pinched him. "But my side of the family's no slouch in that department." His expression sobers. "God knows, his grandfather had stubborn aplenty."

Henry. Oh dear lord, _Henry_. Marion closes her eyes. She hadn't even thought about that. Regret presses in and she rubs her forehead, grieving opportunities lost. Henry had never met his grandson, never had the chance to get right what he got wrong with Indy. She blinks away tears, leaning against Indy. It feels as natural as breathing, rubbing her cheek against his neck, inhaling the lingering scent of sweat, aftershave, and Indy. She sighs. "Will you tell Mutt about him?"

Indy's quiet for a moment, leaning into her as well. His unshaven cheek is rough against her temple. He brings up a hand, fingers gently combing through her hair, lulling her into relaxation. "Maybe someday," he finally says. He turns, shifting enough that he can kiss her forehead. "It's not your fault, Marion. Mutt – well, it's my responsibility." He grins against her skin. "Shouldn't come as a surprise I'm a first class heel."

She huffs a laugh. "It doesn't." Marion tips her head back, looking at him. "And neither is the fact you aren't the only one." There's plenty of blame to go around and she's not pushing any on him. Not with a boatload of it ready to land on her. "We'll talk about it later."

Indy grins wider. "No we won't." He looks at her, his eyes gentling. "We've got better things to talk about."

She smiles, brushing fingers across his lower lip. "We're not going to do much talking." God knows, she's had enough. She wants to throw him down and work very hard to forget most of it. By the look in his eye, she's not the only one thinking that.

"Guys," groans Mutt, "not in front of _everybody_."

"Just close your eyes, sweetheart," Marion says, "this one's a long time coming." She has a lot of regrets, but Indy is not going to be one of them.

Not anymore.


End file.
